


Unbroken

by CranApplePye



Category: Hollows - Kim Harrison
Genre: Angst, F/M, Forced Arousal, Friendship/Love, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Master/Slave, Orgasm Delay/Denial, Slavery, Torture
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-02-03
Updated: 2013-02-03
Packaged: 2017-11-28 02:43:43
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 19,291
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/669332
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CranApplePye/pseuds/CranApplePye
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <em>Ku'Sox smiled. "I will give you Lucy.  That is" - he looked at Trent, silent with Lucy in his grasp - "if Trenton Aloysius Kalamack agrees to take the place of his daughter as my familiar, and you take that curse from me so I might see the sun again."</em>
</p>
<p>  <em>Trent stood ashen-faced as Lucy softly complained of nothing. He knew what it was to be a demon slave.  I had rescued him from it, and he had saved my life.  Now he was going to give his own again to save his daughter, to save two worlds.</em></p>
<p>  <em>"Done," Trent rasped, his expression riven with grief as he pushed Lucy into my arms.  "Take her, Rachel," he said, his arm stretched out to touch his daughter's hand as he stepped back, his eyes fixed to the little girl reaching back to him.  "I say, done!" Trent shouted.  "Send them home!"</em></p>
<p>Ku'Sox owns Trent body and soul, a lesson he feels he needs to drive home to be sure the elf understands what it means to be his and the kind of consequences he can expect if he displeases his new master.  He means to break his new slave, but Trent is a little stronger than either of them anticipated.   Missing scenes for "Ever After".  Trigger warnings for torture and Ku'Sox / Trent non-con.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Unbroken

**Author's Note:**

> SPOILERS! Major spoilers for "Ever After" from this point forward. This is a "missing scene" fic set during "Ever After" and it won’t make as much sense if you haven’t read the book first.
> 
> DISCLAIMER: The Hollows books and characters do not belong to me. All direct quotes, passages and events from "Ever After" as well as the characters, situations, world and well, basically everything belongs to Ms. Harrison. These things are used with great love but without permission. No money is being made from this.  
>  _"... Along with his wisdom came Trent's desire for Ku'Sox's end. His anger and hatred flooded me, almost sending me down. Trent was driven, and through the rings, I saw the depths of depravity that Ku'Sox subjected him to, what he had casually threatened his child with, and the extent Trent would go to in order to stop him. His emotions joined mine, Ku'Sox becoming ugly and sordid in our shared view as our comparisons made a more perfect picture of his broken, lacking soul. My eyes welled, and Bis touched my cheek in concern._  
>  _Trent turned to me, shock in his eyes. It was as if I'd never truly seen him, and it shook me to my core. I blinked fast, wanting to touch him but afraid."_ \-- Excerpt from Chapter 29 of "Ever After" by Kim Harrison.
> 
> This story is completely the fault of the above lines from the book. :) Directly preceding that part there are a number of subtle indications that Trent's probably in pain and hiding it. He's writing and then stops like his arm is hurting him, he's standing and shifts to keep his weight off one leg, and so forth - nothing too glaring, but enough to give you the idea that his time as Ku'Sox's slave left him hurting. Then there are the wonderful passages I quoted above where Rachel actually gets to see what happened to Trent, even though we don't.
> 
> I’d say it seems pretty canon that Ku'Sox must have physically hurt Trent in some way during their time together, probably more than just a little. Whatever Rachel sees upsets her enough to elicit tears so it had to be fairly nasty and the phrase "the depths of depravity that Ku'Sox subjected him to" kind of suggests that we're talking something worse than just getting knocked around. You don't usually use the word _depravity_ for someone getting beat up ... it generally implies that something, well, a little more _depraved_ must have happened.
> 
> So, this is my little "missing scene" for what might have happened. I’m sure this is much more intense and twisted and awful than whatever actually happened ... but then again, you never know. Besides, I have looked all over for a fanfiction with Trent whump and didn't find any, so I thought I would write one. Yes, I'm sure he's very glad I like him so much. Or not. :)
> 
> **Major trigger warnings for torture, M/M non-con and general disturbing nastiness. Also contains mentions of the threat of violence and abuse towards a child (though none happens) and a reference to violence happening in front of a child.** Please do not read this if any of that could cause problems for you. Ku'Sox is evil and what he does is brutal, sick and wrong, no attempt is made to glamorize it.
> 
> The title of the story is taken from the song of the same name by Black Veil Brides. The song is absolutely _perfect_ for the climax of "Ever After", when first Rachel and Trent, and then Rachel, Trent and Al all stand together to face Ku'Sox. It also works very well for this story.
> 
> This story is completely un-beta’ed, so I apologize for any errors or typos, I’m sure there’s tons.
> 
>  
> 
> __  
> Setting:  
>  Most of this fic takes place after the events in Chapter 16. A few scenes at the end that take place during later chapters. Those later scenes are taken from the book. I didn't change any of the events, but the perspective is shifted. In the book, we see Rachel's take on those events. In my story, we see it from Trent's point of view, with the addition of the extra history created by this story.  
>  
> 
> _Chapter 16 Recap … Rachel finds out Trent has gone to Ku’Sox in the Ever After, making sure that Quen is unable to follow him. She attempts to use the pinky rings they share to call Trent to her, but the Wild Magic pulls her to him instead, telling her that "he needs you, more than you need him". Rachel finds out the Pierce and Ceri are dead, leaving Lucy all alone with Ku’Sox, which is why Trent had to go to him and has agreed to give the Rosewood babies the cure that only he knows how to give them. Nick shows up, fights with Rachel, Trent clocks him to help her, then Ku’Sox shows up toting Lucy. A deal is struck – Lucy goes free in exchange for Rachel freeing Ku'Sox from the curse that binds him to the Ever After and Trent promising to become the demon's familiar and obey him unconditionally._

\---------

Trent stood tense and still, gazing at the place where Rachel and his daughter had just disappeared.  For a long moment, the soft, quasi-familiar humming of laboratory equipment and the cadence of his own breathing were the only sounds in the wake of their departure.  Overwhelming relief warred with the undeniable fear tightening in his gut. 

He'd just sold himself body and soul to a demon.  A crazy, sadistic demon responsible for the gruesome torture and death of someone whom Trent had cared for deeply.  A monster who had spent the last few hours delighting in Trent's desperation and fear as he threatened his infant daughter with unspeakably depraved violence and violation.  Ku'Sox had already forced him to do despicable things for his amusement, and now the demon _owned_ him. 

Trent could practically feel Ku'Sox's irritation hovering around him like a cloud, even amid the demon's elation at being freed.  Rachel tended to have that effect on people, but Trent knew that this time, he was the one likely to pay the price.  The remaining fingers of his mangled hand fisted unconsciously at his side.  He knew what it was to be the object of a demon's undivided wrath ... but he hadn't _belonged_ to Al when Rachel's demon had savaged him for supposedly causing her death.  He knew this would be worse. A lot worse.

Trent drew in a long, steady breath as he heard the rustle of Ku'Sox's movement behind him.  

Lucy was safe.  His daughter was free, and safe.  That was what mattered.  That was _all_ that mattered.  He meant what he'd said to Rachel.  There was nothing he would not do for his little girl.  He would die for her ... and even more terrifying, he would _live_ for her.  He would live in hell for her, and serve the devil. 

He'd shown no hesitation and little of his fear to Rachel; he knew he could not afford to.  Rachel was unpredictable and often impractically, destructively loyal even to those with no claim on her. He couldn't risk adding to the chances that she wouldn't take the deal, take Lucy and go.  She always wanted to save people, but there was no way she could have saved him, not this time.  At least, not yet.  If things went as well as he desperately hoped ... then maybe later she could.  Providing, of course, that she didn't already hate him too much by then because of his choices and all the things he knew in his heart he should have told her.  For the present, however, he belonged to Ku'Sox. No one and nothing could save him from that.  He'd known that going in.

_Lucy is safe.  Lucy is safe._  He told himself as Ku'Sox's slender, powerful hand landed casually on his shoulder. 

The demon's eyes fixed on him, dancing with dark, malicious amusement at the obvious wall of resolve the young elf was pulling up around himself.  The upstart princeling thought he knew what he was getting into, but he was so wrong.  He'd have never bartered away his soul if he understood the true depths of what lay ahead of him ... and if he had, then he was twice the fool.  

"Well, now you're mine, pet.  _All_ of you," the demon purred derisively as he brushed a few strands of Trent's mussed, pale gold hair back behind the elf's ear with mockingly possessive fingers.  

Trent jerked his head away, his hatred for this creature rising like dark, vicious bile in the back of his throat. He said nothing, but his green eyes burned with fire.  _You keep thinking that, you aborted flaw of nature; I will see that it means your end._  

The backhand sent him to the floor, his cheekbone on fire, head ringing in pain.  It was not unexpected.  Ku'Sox had been knocking him around since he got here.  The demon's hands were on him again before he'd even blinked the double out of his vision, hauling him effortlessly back to his feet. 

Trent struggled awkwardly to hold himself up and not have to rely on his captor's grip, but then Ku'Sox flooded him with a harsh rush of line energy and his knees buckled again.  His body stiffened in a rigor-like spasm as the burning agony raced across his nerves, making chaos of his neural receptors and making it feel as if he were literally on fire. The broken state of the lines only made it worse.

Trent cried out, then bit back further outcry with supreme effort as the pain did not end, but continued.  The energy of the line flowing through him keeping him trapped in place like an electro magnet as Ku'Sox held him upright against his body for a moment, enjoying the agony on his captive's face before he finally allowed Trent to sink to his knees on the floor, still flooding him with a painful amount of energy.

Ku'Sox grinned, enjoying the sight of the self-important elf on his knees before him.  _That_ just didn't get old.  He was going to relish crushing that beautifully stubborn pride and draining the fire out of those eyes.  It would take a long time to truly break this one.  Years, probably.  It would be absolutely delicious; an unending source of fun.  Something to entertain him once this was all over. 

He'd start the _real_ training later, when he didn't need Trent functional and able to think enough to do the work which only he could do.  Once the babies were stable, once Rachel Mariana Morgan and most of his simpering, idiotic kin were dead and the Ever After nothing but a bad memory, then he'd have plenty of time.  Then he could have real fun.  He could put Trent in a completely black pit and let the rats have at him for a while.  He could alternately freeze and burn him in the darkness until pain and fear was all he remembered, until sunshine and freedom was but a bitter dream that made the darkness harder for the half-mad elf to bear. He could torture him to the brink of death day after day for as long as it took to break him.  Could carve him and tear him apart into his raw, component parts until there was almost nothing left, then simply make his broken body whole once more with a curse so they could start all over again.  He could chain Trent to his bed and keep him there for months if he needed to.  Immobile and in constant pain, both craving and dreading the return of his master's touch until the elf was so desperate to please him and make it stop that he'd beg for the chance to serve him again with something other than just his blood and screams.  Really ... Ku'Sox hoped it took a long time.

His thoughts drifted to the bit of fun he'd had with the elf woman before he killed her.  That had been so _good_ even if much too short.  She had obviously been very well trained by her former master, but had still been so proud, her core still unbroken.  Algaliarept either hadn't been capable of crushing her will completely ... or he hadn't really _wanted_ to.  Neither would be an issue for Ku'Sox.  Some demons may like their familiars a bit spunky and headstrong, but not him.  He would strip everything this elf was away from him and enjoy doing it.

Just thinking about all the possibilities made Ku'Sox shudder in anticipation, his blood burning with a dark, heady hunger.  " _We_ are going to have _so_ much fun, Trenton Aloysius Kalamack," he murmured in dark, sibilant tones of promise, his chilling smile holding all the evil intention of his thoughts.

The look in his eyes chilled Trent to the bone even as his body burned from the demon's touch.  He battled the tug of sickening fear.  He couldn't give into it like this.  Fear was a weapon, if he let the enemy terrify him so easily he gave him a more powerful weapon than he deserved.  Doggedly, Trent clutched his determination with both figurative hands. 

_I am not afraid of you.  I am not afraid of you._ Trent held the lie to him, repeating it stubbornly in an effort to make it true.  He forced his chin up, his watering green eyes meeting Ku'Sox's gaze with pure animosity.    

The demon's smile deepened and he stroked Trent's cheek with his thumb.  He may have to wait for the real training, but he certainly intended to have a little fun in the here and now as well.  Trenton needed to understand his new place and the power his master held over him. He needed to comprehend at least a taste of how badly Ku'Sox could hurt, humiliate and control him.  He needed to appreciate the fact that  his master would be swift to punish and merciless in its delivery ... and that he'd do it just as much for fun as for punishment.  He wanted Trenton thinking twice about crossing him right from the start.  It would make things much easier.

First things first, however.  Kalamack had been a familiar before in the past and was then emancipated, which meant there was only so much the demon could actually do to him until their new bond was established.

"Nicholas, make yourself useful and get me a few things ... " he drawled musically, his gaze shifting from Trent to Nick who was still standing a few feet away, fuming silently over Rachel's departure and generally forgotten by everyone until Ku'Sox again turned his attention on him.

Reminded of other presences in the room, Trent spared a bit of effort to look around for Bis, but the young gargoyle was nowhere in sight.  He had probably gone back to the other goyles, or he was so perfectly matching wherever he was hiding that Trent couldn't see him.  Trent hoped for the former. 

The elf tried to steel himself around the unbearable buzzing of the power in his head as he heard Ku'Sox making the necessary preparations to bind him.  He'd been through this once before, he knew the drill.  At the time, he'd thought it was horrid, humiliating and terrifying being bound to Rachel like that.  Now, all he could hope was that if it came to it, she would do what was needed to claim him back when the time came. 

"You shouldn't have let her go, she'll make trouble," Nick protested unhappily, even as he moved to get Ku'Sox what he'd requested. He may have crap for brains, but he apparently knew better than to disobey the demon. 

Ku'Sox seemed unconcerned and he spared Nick almost none of his notice, his attention still fixed on the prize at his feet as he spoke to the human. "She can do nothing.  It's only a matter of time now. "

"You said I could have her," Nick grumbled like a petulant child, earning him an extra large slice of hatred from Trent. 

"Well, if it's any consolation, I'll let you play with Trenton here when we're done."  He cupped Trent's cheek in his hand, running a warm thumb along the underside of his lower lip and glancing up at the bloody lip Nick was sporting.  Ku'Sox wasn't sure whether that was Rachel or Trent's doing, but given the way the human was glaring, he bet it was Trent.  It was obvious that Trent was the one Ku'Sox was interested in and he didn't give a damn about appeasing his lackey.  He would merely use Nick as another instrument of punishment - one that was sure to be very distasteful to Trent's pride.

Nick seemed unaware of exactly how little he mattered to his master, but he gave an unpleasant smile at the promise and rubbed sore jaw.  He clearly considered it a consolation prize, but would enjoy it none the less.

Trent fought to twist his head away from Ku'Sox's loathsome touch again.  He couldn't move enough to do so, but Ku'Sox noticed the effort and increased the power-flow a little.

Trent 's lungs seized.  He couldn't breathe. He didn't have to try to stay silent, he had no air with which to cry out now.  Instead his mouth fell open in a silent scream as his kneeling body curled forward at Ku'Sox' feet, kept upright and in place only by the demon's grip on him. 

Ku'Sox crouched in front of the elf, gripping Trent's chin tightly and keeping his head forced up as his body convulsed.  He smiled.  "Now, I don't know exactly how Rachel got in here, but I'm sure you're to blame in there somewhere.  And even if you're not ... well, I don't particularly care.  We had an agreement, Trenton and you tried to cross me.  You should have called me at once - not tried to hide her, not tried to help her.  But don't think I'm punishing you," he murmured in mockingly conciliatory terms.  "Not yet.  This isn't _anything like_ punishment yet.   Right now?  This is me in a good mood because I got exactly what I wanted out of her for the moment and I'm about to get what I want out of you.  Once we've got the binding done, _then_ I'll punish you," he promised.  "I'm going to _enjoy_ it, and you will not.  Well ... not at first.  Maybe I'll let you enjoy it later." 

Ku'Sox had to keep a hand on Trent to continue feeding the line into him right now.  Once the ritual was done, he would no longer need physical contact to manipulate him or to inflict much higher levels of excruciating pain. 

Trent still couldn't breathe.  His lungs wouldn't work. His body heaved in small, jerky convulsions under Ku'Sox's hands.  The world was starting to go yellow-grey and his head swam, feeling like it would explode from the lack of oxygen and the clawing, desperate need for air.  Panic raked along his spine and he pressed his eyes shut.  _I will not be afraid of you,_ he thought again, more desperately this time.  _All you can do is hurt me. I will **not** fear pain. My only fear is for my children.  _

Ku'Sox didn't allow Trent any air until he was on the brink of passing out.  Then he eased the pressure enough for the elf to grab a few desperate, gasping breaths before he froze him up again to suffer through another round of slow asphyxiation. 

Trent's head throbbed and swam and he was only vaguely aware of what was going on around him when Ku'Sox began the binding ritual, the Latin words muffled by the pounding in his ears and his body's primal panic over being unable to breathe. 

_Lucy is free, she is safe.  Lucy and Ray are both safe.  Rachel won't let anything happen to her.  Rachel and Quen will protect them to the death. There is nothing you can do to me that outweighs that.  I will not fear you._ Trent though bitterly as he sobbed for the few meager breaths he was allowed to stave off unconsciousness before the oxygen privation began again.  He drew strength from that knowledge. He could do this.  He could face whatever was to come as long as he knew that to be true.

Ku'Sox finally released Trent from the line, allowing him to slump forward on his hands and knees, choking and sobbing for breath.  The demon was saying something to him, was demanding his acquiescence to the magic shackles being figuratively placed upon him.  Still breathing harshly and struggling to get the world back into focus, Trent blinked at the floor and nodded shakily but without hesitation.  "I'm yours," he rasped hoarsely, squashing down the absolute revulsion, hatred and terror that went with those words.

He could not afford to hesitate. He could offer Ku'Sox no resistance except in his mind and his heart.  Not yet. Ku'Sox' release of Lucy and his promise of the girls' continued safety had been explicitly conditional upon Trent's obedience. He could not risk giving the demon any reason to go back on their deal now that he had Trent bound and where he wanted him.  His whole life, he had given himself as a slave to the fate of his people, to his responsibility towards them and the distasteful path it forced him to take.  He would do no less for his daughter, even if he risked betraying everything else he'd ever fought for in the process.

"Body and soul," Ku'Sox prompted.

Trent's shaking fingers curled tensely against the hard floor, but he simply ducked his head in another small nod.  "Body and soul," he affirmed quietly.  He felt it when the spell sealed and the intense, suffocating pressure of Ku'Sox's will fell on him.  The demon's presence in his mind was a jarring, painful and violating sensation.  He felt naked and helpless and sick.  Ku'Sox's power surged through him, stripping his control and his will without regard.  Trent gasped in pain that was more mental than physical. Despite all his preparation and resolve, the sheer intensity of the mental rape was more than he could have ever anticipated.

He'd thought he'd had at least an idea of what to expect, but it had felt _nothing_ like this when he was bound to Rachel.  He'd  feared and resented her having any kind of power over him at the time, but obviously, he'd not had a clue just how much power she _could_ have had if she'd wanted to.

His mind burned at the sensation of being dominated by the pure, black evil of Ku'Sox' will. His body curled in on itself and he pressed his forehead against his hands, eyes clenched tight shut.  _Oh, Goddess..._

"There, that's done then, love," Ku'Sox' mocking voice was pleased.  He stroked his fingers through Trent's perspiration-damp hair, rubbing the back of his head like he was petting a cat.  His hand trailed languidly across Trent's neck and down his shuddering back as if taking a moment to revel in the elf's mental anguish and the heady rush of completely subjugating another's mind and soul.   Trent's lab coat and shirt had ridden up his back a little during his previous convulsions and Ku'Sox' fingers found the stripe of naked skin exposed between the hem of his shirt and top of his pants, caressing it with mock gentleness.  He slid his hand up under Trent's shirt, feeling the damp, firm heat of Trent's heaving back muscles beneath his palm and the upraised roughness of the welts that lay hidden beneath his clothing.  He savored the little spikes of helpless vulnerability that his deliberately unsettling actions were creating in his new familiar's mind. 

Despite knowing he must be obedient, Trent didn't think he could have stayed still and not tried to shy away from that disturbing, possessive touch if he'd had any choice in the matter.  As it was, he didn't.  His body wasn't responding to his desire to move, instead remaining passive and compliant as Ku'Sox rucked his shirt farther up his sore back.  The demon traced his finger along a few of the crisscrossing welts  before his hand slide down to Trent's side to play with the peppered rash of raw, coin-sized, burns that he had slowly and deliberately seared into the elf's tender skin a few hours ago. 

Trent pressed his face a little harder against the back of his hands. It seemed about as much motion as he could currently manage around the iron grip of his new master's control.  He bit his lip as Ku'Sox picked absently at the raw, scabbing edges of one of the burns, digging his nails into the inflamed flesh. 

At least Lucy wasn't here now, as she had been when he'd been given the burns and the welts and the bruises that spread in angry purple-brown blotches across his stomach, beneath his shirt. 

When Trent had first arrived, Ku'Sox doubted his sincerity in offering his services with the Rosewood babies in exchange for his daughter's safety and his ability to be with her.  Or at least, so he claimed.  The demon had proceeded to test Trent to see just how far he would go for the child.  He'd played a hideous game with them, suggesting various violent or just plain sick things he was going to do to Lucy, unless Trent wanted to beg him for the privileged of taking them instead.  

Trent had begged.  He'd begged for all of it - for the lash and for the hot pokers.  He'd even begged the monster to let him pleasure him.  He'd provided a willing, if highly inexperienced mouth for him to use and struggled grimly not to throw up, then begged him to do it again.  He'd been left hurting, filthy, angry and shamed, but he was proud too.  Because he had protected Lucy.  He'd not let one damn thing be done to her. 

He'd kept his silence when Ku'Sox beat and burned him in front of his daughter.  These were things a child shouldn't see.  He hadn't been able to shield her from it, but he'd tried to be strong for her, fighting hard to control the pain so he wouldn't scare her.  He doggedly pretend it was a game like Ku'Sox said it was, hushing her when she cried and assuring her that he was okay, that everything was okay.  He'd never forgive Ku'Sox for letting Lucy watch _everything_ that he had been forced to do and he prayed to the Goddess that she was too young to remember it, especially should those turn out to be her last memories of her father.  But at least he'd kept her safe and whatever happened now, she was thankfully far, far away from it.

Intentionally lost in his thoughts, Trent wasn't aware that Ku'Sox had moved his hand away and risen to his feet until the demon's voice came from the new direction.  "Well, let's see how good you are, then, pet," the demon remarked, and it was all the warning Trent got before Ku'Sox pulled a line through him, _hard._

Trent's head arched up and he screamed, fingers scrabbling at the floor as his body convulsed anew.  It was a hundred times more intense than what Ku'Sox had done to him before.  Before he'd merely been pushing the line energy into his body to hurt him.  Now, with the familiar bond in place, he was pulling the energy _through_ Trent.  He sucked hard and greedy on the shrieking, jagged line, pulling it through Trent like barbed wire being dragged straight through his Chi.  Grinning as he used Trent to filter the worst of the imbalance out for him and letting his familiar take all the pain of the draw, Ku'Sox pulled harder still, testing his new pet's limits.  He forced Trent to take an ever increasing amount of the line until it was more than the elf was able to physically handle.  Trent screamed helplessly, writhing on the floor in an intense agony that shredded all reason and control like claws through tissue paper.  He felt like he was being burned from the inside out. Blood trickled from his nose and ears under the strain.  He couldn't take it. He _physically_ couldn't take it.  Ku'Sox could hold just as much energy as Rachel, apparently - and that was significantly more than Trent could manage, or hope to survive.  He felt like his Chi was bleeding, if that had been possible.

Ku'Sox let it hurt, enjoying watching Trent shriek in pain, but he backed off before he did any lasting damage.  Wouldn't do to fry his new familiar's brains or burn his neural network too badly.  As it was, Trent wasn't going to be comfortably tapping a line for a few hours, but he'd recover.  

"Not bad," he appraised cheerfully as Trent lay gasping on his back on the floor, shaking and drenched in agonized perspiration.  "We'll work on your endurance, love.  You'll get better at it with time."  In reality, the amount of draw that Trent had been able to handle was fairly impressive, even for an elf.  This was going to work out wonderfully all around. 

Dropping into one of the nearby rolling chairs, Ku'Sox leaned back and folded his hands in his lap.  Trent was still on the floor, struggling to breathe and shaking almost uncontrollably.  He wasn't pressing on the elf's will at the moment, but Trent's body was likely in too much shock after that little test for him to be able to move much yet. From the glassy look in Trent's streaming eyes as he stared blankly up at the ceiling, it would probably be a few minutes before his mind was fully processing everything again either.  Well then, may as well let the vermin play. No sense wasting _his_ time when Trent was only going to be half feeling it. 

"Well what are you waiting for, Nicholas?  An engraved invitation?" Ku'Sox inquired with raised brow, gesturing expansively to Trent's sprawled form.  "I said you could have some fun with him when we were done with the binding."  He smiled indulgently.  The edges of his mouth were hard and cruel as his gaze shifted to Trent, who must still be there enough to understand what was being said, because he was weakly trying to get his elbows under him and shift into a slightly less vulnerable position.  The fact that he hadn't been reduced to nothing but a drooling rag doll after what Ku'Sox had just done to him was quite impressive.  He was going to have to be sure he did not underestimate this elf's strength. 

"Avoid his head and don't break anything," he cautioned pleasantly as Nick took two quick steps forward and dragged Trent's semi-responsive body upright by the front of his badly rumpled lab coat.  He obviously would have liked to bury his fist in the blonde man's face, but mindful of Ku'Sox's warning, he punched it into Trent's gut instead. 

Trent was struggling for motor control, his body still feeling leaden and sluggish as Nick bent over him.  He was unable to pull away or protect himself in any manner before the human's fist doubled him over.  He was already hurting so badly that the new pain was somehow both sharper and duller than it should have been.   Nick hit him again in the same place, unknowingly pounding on top of the bruises that Ku'Sox had given him earlier.  Trent stifled a groan. He fought angrily to regain control of his weak, useless limbs as he all but sagged against Nick, doubled over from the abuse.  He tried to get his arms between them, but attempting to move his arms was like trying to move those robot claws in an arcade game - the response was erratic, disjointed and several seconds off from what you wanted.  His hands fumbled against the human's chest, catching and grabbing at the man's shirt in an attempt for purchase as Nick viciously slugged him in his burned side. 

Either annoyed by the lack of resistance or just easily bored, Nick shoved him away with a sound of disgust and rose to his feet.  "You shouldn't have taken the bitch's side," he murmured in a low, hateful voice, drawing back his foot and giving Trent a sharp kick in the ribs. "She's just using you like all the rest of us, you know.  It's what she does with men.  She uses them up until they have nothing left that she wants. Then you're left in the dust as demon bait.  Like me, like you."  He punctuated his words with a flurry of kicks that had Trent curling into a tight ball on the floor as he tried to protect his screaming ribs and burning gut.  Unfortunately that left his back open and Nick kicked him viciously in the kidneys, ringing a hoarse sound of pain from the elf's throat. 

"If she left you behind, it's because you couldn't keep up,"  Trent found himself rasping disdainfully, before he could stop himself.  If the talking monkey needed to beat the snot out of him in order to feel strong, he could at least do so without bringing Rachel into it.  Trent found it strangely infuriating that this demon toady acted like he knew the first thing about Rachel and it was even more infuriating because he _should_ have known because he'd been her turn-blasted _boyfriend_ once upon a time.  Rachel had trusted him, loved him ... _as she will almost certainly never trust or love you,_ a galling little voice whispered in his mind.  She'd given all that to this man, and he'd betrayed her and could talk about her like this now.  It totally frosted Trent's cookies, so to speak, and he found the roiling anger a helpful distraction from the pain that was threatening to make him throw up at any moment.

"You were too _weak,_ too _stupid,_ " Trent taunted from the floor, grinning with a derisive confidence that did not match his situation and yet seemed totally natural on his features.  Taunting the Neanderthal beating you was probably _not_ a great idea, but he was beginning to understand why Rachel  sometimes did things just for the sake of pissing people off.  The look of frustrated rage in Nick's eyes was priceless.  What an idiot.  Trent's lip curled in cultured disgust.

Enraged, Nick lashed out harshly, brutally kicking Trent over and over until one of his ribs snapped and Trent buried his mouth in the crook of his elbow to muffle his cry.  A harsh kick flipped him onto his back again and Nick knelt, one knee pressing down hard into Trent's sternum to keep him pinned. 

Trent's grass-green eyes were cloudy with pain, but bright with disdain and hatred.  He looked at Nick like something he had just scraped off the bottom of his shoe.  It wasn't hard.  The need for perfection, for a lack of emotional display had been drilled into him since childhood.  He was good at letting people see only what he wanted them to see and masking the feelings he could not afford to show.  He had been practicing his masks his entire life until by now, taking them off and trying to show what he _actually_ felt was the hard part.

Nick grabbed Trent's wrists, pinning them by his head as he leaned down, his breath hot and words full of hatred as he whispered harshly in the elf's ear.  "I know what you think.  You think she's coming back for you.  You think she'll get you out of this.  But she _won't._ She doesn't _need_ you and you are just so much collateral damage.  Trust me.  She doesn't give a damn about you and you will never see her again."

Trent refused to acknowledge the little thread of fear that iced down his spine.  It wasn't as if he would give any weight to _anything_ this cretin said, it was just that Nick hit a little too close to a few of Trent's own worries and insecurities.  He didn't doubt Rachel.  She would do what she could, as best as she could, whether or not that included him making it out of this.  Saving him was not, and _should_ not be her priority.  It wasn't even his own priority.  He was very possibly betraying his people and everything he believed in.  If the gamble didn't pay off, he wouldn't _deserve_ to be saved.  That didn't mean, however, that he wasn't desperately hoping it would happen anyway.  But there was much that could go wrong and it was quite possible that he _wouldn't_ ever see Rachel again.  She could die.  Their plans could go amiss.  He could fail to kill Ku'Sox and the demon might not be merciful enough to grant him an end like he had Peirce and Ceri.  He could be stuck as the demon's slave forever.  He did fear that.  Of course he did.  He wasn't stupid.  But Rachel had taught him to believe in the low percentage chances, and life had taught him that no matter what your fears or doubts, you could never let the world see you falter.  You never let the figurative wolves scent your fear or the sharks get a taste of your blood.  Not if you wanted to survive.

"Well I'm not like you, _Nick,_ " Trent hissed back with a pained but ruthless little smile.  He intentionally inflected the man's name the way Rachel always did, just to piss him off a little more. "I'm not a whiny little _bitch_.  I can take care of myself and the consequences of the choices I make.  I've been doing it a long time.  If I couldn't, I wouldn't _deserve_ anyone else's help, much less _whine_ about it like _baby._ "

Pure, unadulterated fury flashing in Nick's eyes, he drew back his fist, ready to pound it into the elf's smug, condescending face. 

With unexpected coordination, Trent's arm shot up and caught his wrist, stopping him.  It wasn't Trent who had moved, however, it was Ku'Sox, controlling his body.  Trent should have felt a little glad, perhaps, but the ease with which Ku'Sox manipulated him like a puppet was instead sickening to him. 

"Ah, ah, ah ..." Ku'Sox waggled a warning finger as he slid out of his chair and to his feet.  "I said not the head, Nicholas Gregory Sparagmos.  I don't want to be fixing up concussions and brain hemorrhages, they are much too bothersome on short notice."

The demon had watched the whole display with amusement.  Poor Nicholas, he really didn't have any class.  He may be standing and Trent may be on the floor bleeding, but the elf still completely beat the pants off him when it came to presence, control and confidence.  Those were things you couldn't teach someone.  They had it or they didn't.  Trent had it and that made the demon a thousand times more interested in playing with him than he was in toying with a spineless little worm like Nicholas.  Ironically, he knew that made Nick think he was special or something, because Ku'Sox had no interest in wasting time playing with him and simply used him where he was needed.  Humans were so unbelievably stupid. 

"Enough, you've had your fun," Ku'Sox made a shooing gesture with his hands as if to a dog as he approached them.  "Run along now, don't you have anything useful to do?"  He smiled broadly as his gaze switched to Trent.  "I need to get to know my new familiar better."

Nick glowered, but obediently climbed off of Trent, rising and straightening his shirt.  If anything, he seemed more angry than when he'd started, but he knew better than to give voice to whatever he was feeling around Ku'Sox.  Casting a last, murderous glare at Trent, Nick turned on his heel and strode out of the room.  He took a small bit of comfort from the fact that he had a feeling Ku'Sox wasn't done breaking in his new slave just yet.  The demon had a sadistic streak a mile wide.  Good, God, the things he had done to that elf woman ... well, Nick didn't mind knowing that Trent may be in for something of the sort, but he also didn't mind getting out of there to let Ku'Sox have his fun in private.  Nick hadn't minded watching with the woman, but Trent wasn't ... uh ... his _type_.  The fact that Ku'Sox apparently didn't _have_ a type did not surprise him. He was a demon and he was batshit insane. Degeneracy seemed to go with the territory.

Through the pain that had taken up throbbing, aching residence in every corner of his body, Trent felt a distinct satisfaction at Nick's barely contained ire. Despite the bruises he'd taken, he couldn't help feeling that from a certain point of view he'd still come out on top of that exchange.  He tried to hang onto that feeling as his gaze shifted to Ku'Sox's much too eager and interested expression.  It wasn't hard to play someone like Nick.  He didn't think he was going to fare so well with Ku'Sox.  Those who were already insecure could be easily manipulated by playing upon their emotions.  Ku'Sox had no such weakness.  He was a highly organized psychopath and it was both hard and incredibly dangerous to game someone who simply didn't have the emotional capacity to care. 

Finding that he at least was beginning to regain a few of the finer points of motor control, Trent struggled to get to his feet as Nick stalked out of the room.  Through sheer, gritted determination, he pushed himself through the pain and managed to get his sluggish limbs to support him.  Sharp pain stabbing in his chest when he attempted to straighten all the way up had him curling forward again a moment later, gripping the edge of the desk beside him tightly in order to remain upright.  His free arm curled around his middle.  It felt like something was jabbing and tearing inside his chest... and it probably was, he realized, remember the blinding snap of pain earlier that meant Nick had broken at least one of his ribs.  _Wonderful._

Busy trying not to black out, Trent started sharply when Ku'Sox' hand slid over his own.  The demon pushed his arm aside, tugging up Trent's shirt so he could press his hand against his slave's bruise-mottled abdomen. 

Ku'Sox made a clucking sound with his tongue, reminding Trent a bit too much of the nightmare bird that was this creature's other form.  "Nicholas was a bad boy, wasn't he?  And here I told him not to break anything ... " the demon sighed theatrically and Trent stiffened as he felt a weird pulse of warmth shift through his innards.  The rest of him still ached like hell, but the stabbing pain inside his chest abruptly disappeared.

Ku'Sox withdrew his hand with a smile.  "At least bones are easier than that squishy grey stuff in your head.  There, that's taken care of, then.  Must make sure you're still in fine shape for taking care of my future children, yes?  _Amateurs_."  He snorted.   "You don't have to break bones or do anything so crude to inflict the most glorious of pain," he said conversationally.  "I can make you scream yourself hoarse, and you'll be able to function just fine afterwards.  It's all about _finesse._ I'll show you." 

Ku'Sox reached forward and Trent took a quick step back, watching him warily and trying with mixed success to keep his heart and his breathing steady.  He'd hoped Ku'Sox was done venting on him, but it was sounding depressingly like that probably wasn't the case. 

"That's okay, I believe you," he said quickly, trying to keep his voice even and as conversational as that of his companion.  "I'm sure you are ... incredibly gifted in your arts," he added when it was clear that Ku'Sox was amused, but not put off by his attempt at evasion.  The demon paced forward slowly, forcing Trent to keep retreating backward.

"I assure you, I understand my place here.  I understand what you expect of me and what the consequences of failure and disobedience are.  No demonstration is necessary." Trent's voice was admirably reasonable, but his pulse was jumping wildly in his throat and nervousness crawled up his raw back like spiders. 

"Spoken like a true businessman," Ku'Sox said with a grin when the back of Trent's hips hit one of the other desks and the elf could retreat no further.  He pushed up close into his slave's personal space, intentionally standing much closer to Trent than the elf was comfortable with.  "You know what an employer wants to hear, Trenton.  But you are not my _employee,_ you are my _slave_ and I don't think you appreciate that distinction.  It means I can do _anything_ to you, any time I want ... just because I feel like it." Ku'Sox's breath was hot and menacing on Trent's neck as he leaned close, as if to inhale the strong scent of cinnamon and sour wine that the nervous elf was exuding like an incense stick. 

Trent had the uncomfortable feeling that the demon was breathing in his fear, almost like a vampire might. He tried to quash the feelings down harder, but it was very difficult with Ku'Sox this close and clearly giving off such a threatening vibe.

"No, Trenton, I don't think you really do understand your place yet, but you _will._ I promise." Ku'Sox's voice had gone low and throaty.  He nipped Trent's neck sharply with blunt teeth and seemed to enjoy the elf's start of surprise.  To his embarrassment, Trent instinctively tried to pull further backward, almost climbing onto the desk behind him in his desire for more distance between them.  Ku'Sox grinned like the bastard he was and Trent realized that he'd given exactly the desired reaction.  He felt his ears and neck warm and knew they were flushing a faint pink which just embarrassed him more.   _Shit._ Ku'Sox was playing with and unnerving him much too easily. 

It didn't help that the bastard was inside his head too, his supplying a vague miasma of horrifyingly graphic thoughts and images about all the things he intended to do to Trent in the long future he foresaw for them.  Despite the demon's words about torture without lasting damage, some of the mental images he was being sent would _definitely_ do _serious_ physical harm and Trent was truly struggling not to hyperventilate.  He'd been the one to find Ceri's naked, broken body in his office, her state telling a clear and terrible tale of the things that had happened leading up to her death.  Heart breaking, he'd cleaned her up as much as possible before he let Quen see her, although it hadn't helped all that much.  Trent knew very well what Ku'Sox was capable of and what he obviously enjoyed. 

Ku'Sox continued to smile, enjoying the growing dread in the elf's eyes.  "Is this what you signed up for, Trenton?" he whispered, his tone devilishly soft and cloying, seeming to wrap around Trent's mind and slither over his senses like oily silk.  "Maybe you want to reconsider your choice ..."

"No," Trent said quickly, firmly.  He forced himself to stand his ground and not flinch away any more as Ku'Sox pressed in against him, almost no space at all between them now as he trapped him against the desk.  He had no illusion that Ku'Sox would actually let him go even if he _had_ changed his mind, but he was not going to give the demon any wiggle room to claim he was backing out.  He would give him no reason to go after Lucy again or any of his other remaining loved ones.  Drawing strength from that resolve, Trent stared resolutely at the far wall, over Ku'Sox' shoulder.  Pulling in a deep breath, he forced himself not to choke on the much too close and heady scent of burned amber. 

"I know what I signed up for.  I already gave you my soul. If you are expecting me to beg and plead like a coward _now,_ when the horse is already out of the gate, then you will be disappointed.  You're right, Ku'Sox Sha-Ku'ru, I am a businessman, so let's cut to the chase.  You own me.  You can do what you want.  Do it, and stop wasting both our time.  The first 48 hours of the Rosewood cure is critical.  I need to be monitoring the children's progress. You feel a show of your mastery is in order, then by all means, please proceed so we can get back to the real work that needs to be done here. "  

Trent shifted his gaze back the demon and held his eyes resolutely.  The calm determination on his face did not betray the sickness in his stomach and gave no lie to the quiet confidence of his words.  A hundred boardrooms and a thousand committees had taught him how to cut losses and spin disadvantages.  How to accept defeat without disgracing yourself and how to try to remind others what they needed from you while seeming to concede their superiority.  He knew it would likely get him nowhere with Ku'Sox, but the truth was that nothing would.  The demon would do what he would do.  Trent had only the choice of how he would face it, and by the turn, he would face it like a man. 

Ku'Sox raised his eyebrows, studying Trent's face carefully, looking for false bravado and finding only a martyr's determination.  " _My cause is just and my blood be spilled on honor's field_ ..." the demon mockingly quoted something that sounded half-way familiar to Trent.  "So noble and self-righteous.  Oh you _are_ a little elf prince, aren't you?  Like the old ones talk about.  I thought they didn't make them like that anymore.  This will be _so_ much fun, pet." 

The demon ran his hand through Trent's hair in a mockery of a caress.  The fake intimacy of the gesture and the lascivious heat in his eyes was calculated to garner fear and disgust.  It worked, but Trent refused to show him how well it worked.  He stiffened, but didn't flinch.  Much.  It was pretty clear where this was going and how exactly the demon intended to "teach him his place".  The knowledge filled Trent's mind with a babbling, unreasoning terror that shamed him just by existing.  He'd hoped this could be avoided, but he'd known it could happen.  Last time he'd been on the slave block down in the Ever After, more than a few demons had taunted him about how they'd like to use his pretty body and from Ceri, he knew it was not uncommon for demons to be sexually active with their familiars, regardless of gender. He wasn't sure if it was in any way an extension of the mental joining and submission created by the bond, or just because they were handy, live-in slaves that may as well be put to more than one use.  Not that it mattered.

Ceri had been proud and proper and dear, but had never tried to hide from Trent or Quen what she had done during her hundreds of years as Al's familiar.  She had in fact gone out of her way to make sure that Quen knew.  That he understood and could still love her.    _Oh Goddess ... Ceri ..._   the grief was a hard knot of anguish and anger as he faced the very monster who had killed her and was presented with the entirely hateful prospect of being forced to surrender to him in the filthiest of ways.  He pushed down the grief and held onto the memory of her strength instead.  Ceri had made it through centuries of this sort of thing with her heart and mind intact.  Trent could certainly make it through a day or two.  He could do that, for himself, for his daughter and for Ceri.  He _would_ be as strong as her and by the Goddess, he would see her avenged.  

Ku'Sox smiled at Trent's stoic silence.  It was going to be marvelous to slice through it slowly until he had the elf writhing and screaming and pleading.  He slid the lab coat very deliberately from Trent's shoulders, dropping it on the floor.  "There is no ruinous despair sweeter than the ruin of a noble soul.  We'll see how self-righteous you are when I've carved myself into you and painted your pretty, spotless soul red with your own blood and your pleas for the depravity I will teach you to _crave._ "

Trent's heart pounded in his throat, but his gaze fastened resolutely on the far wall again as he drew into himself to get through the things that lay just ahead.  He gave a short, dark, mirthless laugh.  "Don't be fooled by my aura.  A lack of smut does not a clean heart make.  My soul is neither noble, nor spotless.  It's black, Ku'Sox, black as the midnight sky.  You should have inspected the goods first.  You made a poor bargain, demon."  Unprompted, Trent let his hips shift backwards, sitting on the desk that Ku'Sox obviously intended to force him onto, claiming that bit of control away from him.  Discomfort and bone-chilling fear churned through him as his feet dangled, but he nevertheless settled back with apparent carelessness, leaning on his hands and looking up at the demon that was now essentially standing between his legs. 

Out of the blue, he was reminded of Rachel snapping at him to stop looking so sexy sitting on his desk.  It was apropos of nothing, but for a moment he desperately hung onto the memory and the little jolt of strength it gave him.  Then he tucked it away and tried not to think of anything.  He didn't want thoughts of Rachel or anyone else who meant anything to him in his head right now.  It was almost as if they could somehow become tainted by the ugliness of the situation and the choices he was being forced to make.  Or maybe it was only in his own mind that he didn't want the cross-contamination.  He was excellent at compartmentalization.  If he could just keep everything happening now in its own isolated cage within his heart and mind, then he could make it through and do what needed to be done.  It was the only way he knew to survive.  If it meant there were little parts of him that were forever boarded up and hidden away, then so be it.  Those were parts of him he didn't need.

Mind as blank as he could make it, Trent ruthlessly quashed the hideously uncomfortable, panicked yammering that bubbled just below the surface of his control.  He looked up at Ku'Sox, his gaze hot and intense with both hatred and challenge.  "You can't ruin a lost cause, Ku'Sox, but go ahead.  Give it your best shot."  

Ku'Sox licked his lips, shuddering with anticipation.  He'd expected a much different reaction, but this was okay.  He'd get the fear and the pain he wanted eventually; he didn't mind working for them.  The elf was irresistible sitting there all carefully constructed calm and determined fortitude, just waiting to be broken and shattered into ragged shards of himself.   He hungered for him, but it wasn't a physical attraction as such.  Yes, Kalamack was very easy on the eyes from a certain aesthetic point of view.  But Ku'Sox' sexual excitement had very little to do with the appearance, gender or race of his victim.  Those were unimportant side-notes.  For him it was all about the domination.  It was control, pain, fear and helplessness that got him going.  It was the raw, invasiveness of the act and the mental and emotional pain that accompanied the physical in a way that was absent from other forms of torture.  He had always wondered why that was.  Why this kind of torment, one that could in fact be pleasurable at times for the victim if he willed it, should be to them more horrific for some reason than other types of more damaging pain.  Maybe it was his lack of a soul, but he simply did not understand.  It was enjoyable, however, to play with the worms' strange weaknesses. 

He'd intended to throw Trent down and just start ripping, but that was fun when the victim was already pleading and crying and trying to get away.  Trent was pretending willingness, or at least acceptance, and it would be more entertaining to see how far he could push the proud elf before the act started to crumble. 

Smirking, he reached out and started unbuttoning Trent's dress shirt.  "Remember, love, you've promised to do _everything_ I tell you.  You fail in your obedience now, and I'll think you're reneging," he purred.  The elf obviously already understood that, but it didn't hurt to grind it in a little deeper.  He could of course force Trent's obedience easily through the control he had over him, or simply by his superior physical strength ... but that would not be nearly so satisfying as Trent forced to comply with everything of his own free will.  That rarely ever happened with a familiar.  You had to train them a lot before it was no longer all force and by then much of the fight was out of them.  To have an unwilling, unbroken victim submitting to him by choice was novel and delicious.  He was eternally grateful for lesser beings' tendency to have ridiculous attachments to their offspring. It could make them do the most ridiculously entertaining things.

Trent simply sighed, body tense but unresisting as the demon undid his shirt.  "Do you always talk this much?  I thought we were on a pretty tight time-table, here." 

"We are, but I'm certain I can devote ... oh, an hour or two ... or three ... to your proper instruction.  It's not like that stupid little girl can do anything without her baby gargoyle.  They're all just running around in circles, wasting time."  Trent's shirt fell open and Ku'Sox explored the naked skin of his chest with warm fingers, admiring the darkening bruises left by Nick's fist and shoes.  There was nothing so beautiful as raw, bruised or bleeding flesh.  It made him positively ravenous with every kind of hunger.

Trent tried not to shudder in revulsion at the demon's possessive, exploring hands.  He felt a grim satisfaction at Ku'Sox's hopefully fatal underestimation of Rachel.  He should study his enemies better. He was a fool.  The small thought that maybe there was a silver lining in here somewhere flickered through Trent's mind as Ku'Sox dug rough fingers into his bruises and casually raked bloody scratches down his sides, apparently just for the hell of it. 

Gritting his teeth, Trent gripped the desk hard and let his head fall back, staring up at the ceiling.  The fact was, every moment that Ku'Sox was distracted here with him was a moment he wasn't actively keeping track of Rachel.  It was another moment he wasn't discovering their plans or plotting new ways to destroy them.  Yes, maybe this could be a good thing.  Being Ku'Sox's slave made him hideously powerless, but maybe in some small way he could still be helping Rachel and Lucy and Ray and Quen ... even as he desperately hoped that none of them would ever have to know about this.   _Dear Goddess, especially Rachel._  

Thinking of her was a mistake. It cut through the numbness he was desperately trying to hold onto and struck a deep, echoing chord of shame inside him.  He didn't want to know how disgusted she'd be with him that he'd done this, that he'd allowed it to happen and participated obediently in his own violation with a very male demon who was responsible for the deaths of so many they held dear.  She'd never look at him the same, no one would.  They would see it as weakness, even Quen.  He hoped to avoid that, but if he couldn't ... well, this was his choice, he was just going to have to live with the consequences, alone if need be.  Like always.  He could not let that hurt right now.  He could not let it tear the soul he technically no longer owned.  He could not afford to give Ku'Sox so much power over him.  He had to be strong now. It was the only thing left to him.

With a huge effort, he struggled to blank his mind and emotions again as Ku'Sox bit his nipples until they bled and then sucked his blood from the sensitive flesh like a vampire.  There was a strange lack of intimacy in Ku'Sox's harsh and non-sensual touches.  He was like a hyena playing with its meal and  Trent felt uncomfortably more like the crazy demon was _eating_ him than bedding him. 

Biting his lower lip harshly, Trent fell back on his elbows as the sharp stabs of the demon's insatiable teeth became increasingly painful.  A small, half panicked part of his mind that clearly remembered the hideous bird creature that lurked behind Ku'Sox's human-shaped facade hoped that the demon wasn't going to lose it and start eating him for real.  _That_ would be _incredibly_ inconvenient.

Mouth red with Trent's blood, Ku-Sox finally straightened up, his eyes glittering with literal bloodlust.  Bodies and blood weren't nearly as good as souls, but he already possessed Trent's soul, he didn't need to eat it.  He would sate himself in other ways. 

Wiping his mouth on his hand, he took a step back and Trent found that for some dumb reason he felt even _more_ vulnerable now that Ku'Sox _wasn't_ pressed against him and he was just sitting there stupidly while the demon ate him with his eyes. 

Agonizingly nervous and tense, Trent jerked slightly when Ku'Sox spoke.  "Stand up.  Take off your shirt."  The commands were brusque and to the point. Obviously, now that he was invested, the demon was no longer so interested in keeping a running commentary. 

Trent could live with that.  Silently, he slid off the table and shrugged out of the dress shirt he was now only partially wearing.  He held it by the collar, instinctively looking around for somewhere to put it before finally draping it over the back of the chair next to them. 

"Mm," Ku'Sox murmured in approval.  "Now everything else.  Strip for me, love."

Trent was prepared for the command and hesitated only for the briefest moment before he began methodically shedding his pants, shoes, socks and underwear.  He put them on the chair with his shirt, his movements tense, swift and practical.  If Ku'Sox wanted a damn striptease then he should damn well have specified that.  Trent would do _exactly_ as he was told, no more.

Apparently, Ku'Sox considered it enough that the clothing was gone and Trent was now naked before him, shivering slightly in the suddenly chilly air of the lab. Trent was numbly aware that they were in full view of a room full of infants and the occasional terrified nurse.  He smiled grimly at the disgusting absurdity of it all, trying hard not to feel even more exposed and humiliated.  The nurses had gotten pretty damn good at the whole _see nothing, hear nothing_ routine so maybe they wouldn't watch. Still, if he and they survived to escaped this nightmare, he was going to have their memories of this incident wiped.  Really, this whole thing had doubtless been hell for them. It would be better for them all around if they didn't remember most of it. 

Ku'Sox circled him, again putting Trent uncomfortably in mind of a predator watching his prey.  The demon's hands touched, fondled and painfully pinched the elf in places where his filthy fingers had no business being and Trent kept his gaze fixed far away.  This meant nothing.  Nothing at all.  It was just another way for the demon to hurt him.  It was just torture.  It didn't matter what form it took.  It didn't.  And maybe if he kept telling himself that, he would eventually believe it.

"Bend over the desk," came the smirking command. 

_Guess we're not wasting any more time, then._ Trent fixed the demon with a malevolent look of hatred and disgust before turning back to the low, table-like desk.  It was harder than he'd thought it would be, forcing himself to do it, knowing that Ku'Sox was watching and getting off on jerking him around like this.  Jaw set, Trent just made himself do it, planting his hands with a defiant smack against the top of the desk and spreading his legs in as natural a movement as possible, before Ku'Sox could _order_ him to do so. 

Painful, sickly heat spread up Trent's neck and face.  His ears were burning.  He was trying so hard to get through this with dignity, but he felt so stupid, vulnerable, afraid and ashamed that if he got through this without puking his guts all over the desk it was going to be a wonder. 

Trent thought Ku'Sox was just going to get down to business, but the demon wasn't in quite as much of a hurry as he'd assumed.  Trent jerked when a hand landed on the small of his back and then scowled darkly at his own reaction and the grating sound of Ku'Sox' s laughter.  He was way too tense and jumpy.

"Now Trenton, don't presume to know my intentions," he mocked.  His fingers were cold and strangely wet as they traced indiscernible patterns across Trent's naked back.  "While it is _gratifying_ that you're so eager to be fucked, you're not nearly ready for me yet.  Don't you remember?  I still have to punish you, love." 

Trent grit his teeth, body tight as a guitar string as he held position while the strange, light touches on his back continued.  He wanted this over with.  He wanted it over and done in the worst kind of way.  The wet, slippery glide of Ku'Sox' fingertips against his skin moved lower, tracing the same kind of patterns across his butt and thighs as had been done on his back.  And there _was_ a pattern to it, Trent realized.  He'd thought the demon was just playing with him, but with a small shiver he realized Ku'Sox was _drawing_ something on him with whatever that wet, oily substance was.

He couldn't see what from his position, but he glanced back over his shoulder anyway, uneasy.  Somehow, he doubted that the demon was finger-painting on him because he thought it made him pretty. 

The drawing stopped and Ku'Sox' hand pressed down, palm flat against the base of Trent's spine.  The elf couldn't see it, but it was the nexus of the invisible pattern the demon had painted.  Ku'Sox murmured several words Trent didn't know and then he felt pain, hot and bright flare to life in his senses, as if someone had pressed the back of his body against a sizzling grill. 

Instinctively, he tried to stand, to do something to escape the fiery burn, but Ku'Sox's command stopped him.  "Don't, move unless I tell you to," he ordered, giving one of Trent's butt cheeks a sharp little slap of reprimand.

Gasping, Trent hung his head between his shoulders, struggling to obey as his back, rear and thighs flamed.  It wasn't hard to put two and two together and realize that the sensation was the result of whatever curse Ku-Sox had just invoked on him.  Lovely.  _Shit,_ it hurt. 

Ku'Sox admired his handiwork, tracing the faintly glowing lines of the knotted design he'd set into his familiar's skin.  Now that it was invoked, they would remain until he chose to deactivate them.  It was a curse that manipulated sensation, and very ingeniously designed if he did say so himself.  The curse would intensify and manipulate Trent's perceptions.  It would turn the lightest touch into the sharpest pain.  Smiling, Ku'Sox pulled free a long silk cord that was wound about the waist of his kimono and doubled it around his fist like a lash.  The cord would do very little actual harm to anyone, but to Trent it would feel like he was being beaten with a bull whip.  All the pain, none of the damage.  Finesse.  Just like he'd said.

"Keep your head down.  Do not look up, do not move," Ku'Sox ordered as he positioned himself behind and slightly to the side of his slave, where he had the best room to swing.  He didn't want Trent to understand the deception, not until it was over.  It was more effective when the victim in question really thought you were flaying their hide off. 

The thought of that sent a frustrated shiver up the demon's spine.  He _wanted_ to.  He _wanted_ to take a _real_ whip to Trent's deliciously whole skin and beat him until the blood ran and he could see all the beautiful muscle and bone exposed beneath.  He would, he promised himself.  He would.  Just not yet.  He needed Trent whole and relatively intact both physically and mentally for a while longer yet.  In the meantime, he would consol himself with Trent's pain and the knowledge that at least to the elf, it would _feel_ like he was being laid open.

Trent glared at the surface of the desk beneath his hands as Ku'Sox moved around behind him. Nauseating anticipation of the unknown drew his body tighter and tighter. There was the faintest sound of something slicing the air and then a shock of pain more intense than anything he'd ever experienced before in his life cut across his shoulders, nearly driving him down onto the desk.  He cried out in surprise.  A second slash of fire cut across his butt a moment later and he jerked upright before he could stop himself.

Ku'Sox' strong hand on his shoulder slammed him back down onto the desk with brutal force, pinning him across it on his stomach.  "I _said_ don't move!" he growled, viciously lashing Trent's thighs and backside over and over as he held him down until Trent was sure he must be bleeding freely. 

_Oh Goddess, it hurt!_ It hurt unimaginably bad.  He'd not even known there could be pain like this.  There was something wholly unnatural about it.  Even Al crushing his fingers and slicing them off a little bit at a time hadn't hurt this bad, and that simply could _not_ be right. 

Trent's hot cheek pressed against the cool surface of the desk. He struggled to choke back his cries, but was only partially successful. Small groans and yelps of pain tore from his throat every time the lash struck.  Ku'Sox released his shoulder and started lashing his exposed back again and Trent wondered if it was physically possible to die from pain. 

"Hold the position," Ku'Sox commanded, his voice thick and hot with cruelty and depraved excitement.  "You will obey me, slave, or I may forget that I need you in one piece for the present."

Trent's fingernails dug into the hard surface of the desk.  His toes dug into the floor.  His naked body squirmed against the pain and his strongest efforts at control only barely kept him from attempting to jerk away and bolt as the lash descended again and again.  He couldn't hold back the screams anymore and he cried out each time the whip bit into him. 

His body was hot, burning with pain and rage and shame and warming the cold surface of the desk beneath him.  Trent shifted his arms in front of him so he could rest his head on them and hide the pained, angry tears running down his cheeks.  He was in agony, and the beating didn't seem in danger of ending anytime soon.  He couldn't do this.  He was trying, but the pain was too much for him.  He was not going to be able to stay still much longer and he was terrified and bitterly shamed by his weakness. 

Hatred for Ku'Sox was hot and sharp inside him.  The demon knew damn well what he was demanding was impossible.  He _wanted_ to give Trent an order he couldn't keep.  " _Bastard_ ," Trent rasped angrily between sobs of pain.  

The lash came down across his ribs and lower back, swift, punishing and unmerciful.  Ku'Sox was beating him with a rapid, brutal cadence that allowed no time for him to even fully absorb the pain of one strike before a new one was already layering on top. 

Ku'Sox's chuckle was low and throaty.  "What was that, Trenton?  There something you want to say to me?" 

"You're ... a sick ... bastard!" Trent gasped out, voice harsh and tense around gritted screams. 

Ku'Sox just laughed.  "Why thank you.  But flattery will get you nowhere. You're moving around far too much, love. I thought I told you to be still and take your medicine like a good boy." 

Trent wanted to rip the bastard's tongue out and feed it to him.  The lash fell again and again, his body jerking and arching each time like he'd been touched by a live wire.  He couldn't control it and hopeless desperation mingled with his rage.

"Be still, Trent ... last warning," Ku'Sox's silky, smug voice hissed surprisingly low and close to his ear. 

Trent screwed his hands into fists and his eyes tight shut.  The bastard had him and he knew it.  "I-I can't ..." he whispered hoarsely.  A sharp cut of the lash across his already heavily abused backside made Trent scream into his fist. "I can't, damn it!  You know I can't," he accused raggedly.

"Mmm," Ku'Sox murmured, pausing to run one rough hand appreciatively up Trent's reddened back.  The abrasions left by the cord he was using were slight, but visible.  To Trent, he knew it felt like his back was a mass of bleeding welts and he happily dug his fingers into the imaginary wounds, enjoying the elf's choked whimpers beneath him.  "No, I suppose not.  You're new to this, pet, so I'll be good to you this time.  I'll give you an alternative.  If you can't be a good boy on your own, then _I'll_ hold you down so you can take it ... _if_ you askme very nicely."

Trent's chest tightened in revulsion at what was being demanded, but really, what choice did he have?  The lash fell against his thighs again and he buried his head more tightly against his arms. 

"Beg me, Trenton.  Beg me to control you, to hold you down so your frail, pathetic body can obey me. You don't want to break our agreement already, do you?"

The lash fell again and Trent repressed a sob of both pain and despair.  "Control me," he rasped, his hoarse voice empty and numb.  "Please.  Hold me down so I can take this like you want me to.  _Please._ "   Eyes clenched tight shut, Trent let the part of him that had needed to say that die. _Cut off the dead wood.  Do what had to be done, then trim it away.  Survive.  Survive._

 "Good boy," Ku'Sox murmured approvingly and Trent felt the awful, dead weight of the demon's will press down on him, controlling him and immobilizing his body.  He'd asked for it, but the sensation was unspeakably terrifying and suddenly he wished he could take it back.  He didn't want this.  He didn't ... but what he wanted didn't matter.

"I think though, I'll still allow you to scream," the demon said pleasantly before laying into Trent again - hard, punishing and brutal. 

Trent did scream.  Loud and long and hopelessly as the pain became a living thing, an enemy trying to eat his hope and his sanity.  He buried his face on his arms and sobbed in shameful agony, his tears slicking his arms and making his long, fine lashes cling together.  True to his word, the ability to voice his pain was the only ability Ku'Sox had left him.  He was completely unable to move now, and while that at least released him from the strain of attempting to control himself, it was not worth the trade off.  The feeling of utter helplessness and of being trapped in his own body was terrifying and only made everything worse.

He could do nothing.  He could literally do nothing but lay there over the desk and take it as Ku'Sox whipped him until Trent eventually screamed himself hoarse and the harsh sounds tapered off into raw, completely agonized choking and sobbing. He was totally and utterly helpless, and that was exactly what the demon wanted to grind into him.

Trent didn't know how long Ku'Sox had been beating him anymore.  Pain had swallowed him and there was no measurement of time beyond the next stroke and his next choking breath.  There was no reality that was not consumed with the agony that ate his reason and left him raw and desperate and foreign to himself.   

With hideous clarity, he realized that Ku'Sox _would_ break him eventually.  Not today, no.  Not tomorrow or the next day either.  He was stronger than that, he was stronger than the pain and he would not give in so easily.  He would fight the demon tooth and nail and he was _going_ to make it out of this, damn it!  But ... if they failed and he was stuck in this situation permanently, then with enough time and effort, Ku'Sox _would_ slowly break him down and wear him away until there was nothing left of who he had been.  Trent supposed he simply wasn't as strong as Ceri after all, and hoped he could find a way to die before that happened.  Hell couldn't really be worse than this.

Trent's shoulders heaved with his ragged breathing, his body shuddering in over-wrought agony.  He didn't realize the whipping had stopped until Ku'Sox's hand was stroking him again.  Warm and menacing and cruel as harsh fingers found raw skin, caressing and scratching and playing with the mess he'd made of his familiar's back.  Trent was unable to move or to assess his own injuries, but it felt like he'd been laid open to the bone from his shoulders to his knees and he must surely be lying in a puddle of his own blood by now.

He wondered numbly if Ku'Sox considered this state still "functional" or if the demon intended to patch him up when they were done, like he had with his broken rib.  The realization that Ku'Sox was probably capable of hurting him pretty damn badly and then making it all better just so he could do it again dawned slow and terrible in the elf's mind.  That was something he hadn't considered before, although he probably should have.  _Fuck.  Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck!_ Trent didn't usually use that word so much in a whole year, but at the moment it felt warranted. 

Ku'Sox's hand traveled down his hips, brutally caressing his marked backside.  Blunt fingers intimately fondled the inside of the elf's raw thigh and slid invasively between his legs.

Trent pressed his mouth against the back of his hand.  His body was already trembling from the pain still sparking through his nerves and now it also shook from the weight of his rage, hatred ... and the useless, childish fear he could not completely banish.  This meant nothing.  It changed nothing.  He would not allow it to mean anything to him.

There was the rustle of fabric, and then he felt Ku'Sox' naked flesh against him as the demon molded his body against Trent's from behind.  He bent over his slave's prostrate form, hands resting on either side of the younger man's body so he could lick the perspiration from Trent's neck and bite lightly at one of his delicate ears, which was currently flushed crimson from the humiliation he was trying so hard to hide.   

"Think you can hold yourself still for _this_ then, love?" the demon murmured with a grin.  He intentionally rocked his semi-clothed hips against Trent's naked, smarting rear, letting him feel the length and girth of what he was expected to handle.  "No ... I don't think you can," he answered his own question with devilish amusement.  "Not the first time.  Just be good and relax, and I'll let you try next time, pet."

Trent found himself fighting not to hyperventilate for what felt like the millionth time.  _Crap on toast, the bastard was hung like a horse._  Exhausted and reeling from the beating, yet filled to bursting with nervous, panicked energy because of what Ku'Sox was doing behind him, Trent felt the completely inane urge to giggle hysterically when Rachel's ridiculous favorite cuss phrase came so naturally to his own mind.  It was actually happening a lot lately, the woman had ruined his language.

_Rachel._

Despite his determination to keep anyone he cared about far away from the taint of this disgusting ugliness, Trent found himself latching onto thoughts of her anyway, unable to let them go as Ku'Sox whispered dark, filthy promises in his ear and pushed the elf's legs wider apart. 

"This is going to hurt, love, but I promise you'll learn to like it eventually.  I'll make you groan like a whore for me, my pretty little elf," the demon murmured salaciously as he gripped Trent's hips and positioned them where he wanted.  He was still holding Trent captive with his will, but not quite as tight as before.  He'd let him have a little leeway - enough to thrash and writhe, just not enough to hope of escaping.   

Trent tried not to feel the grasping, groping fingers.  Tried to ignore the gut-clenching sensation of being pulled open.  He thought of the way Rachel's hair looked as it tumbled against her shoulders.  The way it got wild and frizzy and attractively un-picture-perfect after she'd been running around saving the world for a while.  He shouldn't bring her here, into this evil place, but he could not force himself to stop.  He felt like it was selfish and pathetic, but he held onto the thoughts anyway.  He had to.  He was weak.  Weaker than he'd thought he was.  He couldn't do this ... not alone.  He couldn't do it alone.  He needed a shred of goodness to hold onto, something to grip tight that let him remember beauty and honor and those things he wanted to protect, even if he himself could never have them. 

_Forgive me.  Forgive me for being so weak._ He felt Ku'Sox pressing intimately and sickeningly against him and Trent held onto the image of Rachel's smile, and her scowl, and the way she looked at him like he was just too aggravating for words most of the time. 

Pain blossomed anew.  This one intensely personal, shameful and humiliating.  Trent held his breath until he was dizzy, struggling to cope.  He recalled the long list of creative insults Rachel and Jenks had come up with for him over the years - most of which he found as amusing as pet names now, although he'd never admit that.  

Blunt fingers dug into his hips, jerking him backward as Ku'Sox's pressed forward, making Trent's world burn with raw sensation and making his captive body want to crawl up onto the desk to escape.  Trent remembered Rachel's laugh and what it felt like on the few rare occasions when he did something that actually managed to garner her approval instead of her irritation.  He held onto those slivers of better times as he bent his head down hard against the desk, crying out hoarsely with vocal chords that were no longer able to produce normal sound as Ku'Sox forced and tore his way into him. 

The demon did nothing to prepare his familiar or ease the joining.  Ku'Sox took him dry, moving quick and hard, claiming him without mercy and demanding from Trent's body the complete surrender he'd already demanded from  his will.

Trent had no voice left, but he tried to scream anyway, the hoarse, agonized sounds as delicious to Ku'Sox as the desperate way the elf's body squirmed and shook beneath him as he pounded viciously into it.  He groaned in delight when there was finally bright, beautiful red blood running down the elf's pale thighs.  _Ah... so good ... so broken and beautiful._ He was doing Trent's body real damage now and he just couldn't care.  He'd fix it afterwards.  They were localized wounds and it wouldn't be that hard.  He _needed_ this after all the exhilarating foreplay.  He _needed_ to see the elf's blood and feel him break and tear.  It was marvelous.

Trent's thoughts scattered under the unremitting brutality of the assault.  He could hold onto nothing.  He was in that place again where only the pain existed, and the awful, traitorous part of him that wanted to beg for it to stop.  _Please!  Please, please stop..._  But he wouldn't say it.  It wouldn't do any good and Ku'Sox would only laugh at his pain. 

 It seemed to go on and on and Trent started to drift. There was never any escape from the blinding, degrading sensations but at a certain point his mind drew away from it out of some built in sense of self preservation.  He tried to find his thoughts from before, but they were gone.  There was no place for goodness or love where he was right now.  There was only anger, hatred and determination.  He would see this demon dead.  _Dead._ He would ride him down, hunt him like a wild animal and see the fear in _his_ eyes before all was said and done.  It didn't matter that that was a ridiculously impossible thought, he enjoyed it anyway.  Not just for himself, but for everyone this bastard had hurt and killed.  This demon was a monster who would seek the destruction of everything good until he was stopped.   Trent swore to himself, he wouldn't let that happen.  He would see justice done and the world protected from this threat forever.  He _would._  

Choking on his pain and the scent of burned amber that was almost suffocating, Trent heard Ku'Sox give a guttural groan of satisfaction as his hips finally stilled.  More slick, wet warmth ran down the inside of his thighs and Trent told himself it was just more of his own blood, even as he finally lost his long battle with the nausea churning within him.  Leaning up on shaky elbows, he threw up on the desk, his body heaving and retching with disgust and shame.

Smiling in lazy contentment, Ku'Sox watched Trent expel the contents of his stomach, still inside the elf while he idly traced a finger tip along the faint pattern he'd created earlier.  Finally pulling out, he stepped back and admired his work before pulling Trent up by the shoulders and turning him around.  The sheer intensity of the mixed emotions on the elf's hotly flushed and tear stained face was scrumptious.  Pain and pride, disgust and shame, fear and hatred ... so many things swirled behind those red-rimmed green eyes. 

"Oh dear," he said in a mocking, sing-song tone.  "Someone made a mess." Pulling a handkerchief from the breast pocket that his kimono was illogically sporting, he handed it magnanimously to Trent.  "Do clean yourself up a little, love." 

 Glaring murderously, Trent took the square of cloth and wiped his mouth clean, spitting into it before reaching over and shoving it back into Ku'Sox's pocket, dirty side out.  "Thanks," he rasped, tone acidic, despite his voice being little more than a ragged whisper.  "Are we _good_ now?" 

Trent pressed one palm against the desk for support, wavering unsteadily on his feet as pain radiated through him from everywhere.  He desperately needed to sit, despite how painful it would probably be, but he wasn't sure he could walk anywhere, even to the chair.

Ku'Sox laughed and patted his cheek roughly.  "Oh I _do_ like you, I do.  But you are _so_ impatient.  No, love, we're not done just yet," he said brightly, taking Trent by the shoulder and trying to guide him away from the desk. 

Trent felt his heart sink like stone, his unsettled stomach giving another little lurch.  _They weren't done yet?_   He felt the disgusting and utterly pathetic urge to cry and battled it down quickly.  Ku'Sox pulled him forward. Trent took one stumbling step to follow and nearly ended up on his knees.  _Holy crap,_ it hurt to move.  His insides were too raw and walking pulled all the wrong muscles.  Trent curled forward sharply, unable to straighten up around the pain. 

Impatient with his limping slave's frailties, Ku'Sox propelled Trent along with him forcefully, keeping him on his feet with a bruising grip until they reached one of the other, non-soiled desks. Gripping his familiar's shoulders and turning him about, the demon threw him down on top of it. 

Reeling, Trent landed in an undignified sprawl on his back, his bent knees dangling  over the edge. For a moment, the shock of pain from the hard surface impacting his raw back stole his breath and jarred all conscious thought away from him.  His body had been put through too much and whether or not Ku'Sox thought he was being careful with him, Trent was starting to slide into shock. 

He didn't realized he was losing time until his senses shifted unwillingly back into focus and he found Ku'Sox bending over him, hands cupping his captive's face with mock gentleness.  "That's better.  I want to see you this time."  The demon had pulled his hips to the edge of the desk.  He was standing between Trent's legs meaningfully ... and he was already hard again.  

Trent groaned in miserable understanding and protest as the demon stroked his quivering abdomen.  _No, not again.  He couldn't do it again, he couldn't!_

"Relax, love," Ku'Sox purred, obviously drinking up the unquenchable flicker of fear in Trent's pained, desperate eyes.  "It won't be so bad this time.  A proper trainer uses both the carrot and the stick.  You train horses, don't you?  You understand how this is, yes?  I already showed you how badly I can make you hurt, but that's not all I can make you feel.  I can be good to you, Trenton, when you learn to please me."

Trent's wide-eyed, horrified gaze obviously said that he found that a most distressing idea.  Which was, of course, exactly what Ku'Sox wanted.  He knew Trent wasn't ready yet to be swayed by these methods.  He'd need to put the elf through a _lot_ more pain for a much longer time before he was ready to beg his master to mix pleasure with the pain just so he could survive it.  For now, he would merely use pleasure as another weapon to carve away the elf's self worth.  It tended to work especially well on the proud ones.

Ku'Sox held Trent's knees and moved in close, finding the desk to be the perfect height for this. 

Trent shook his head desperately, struggling to make his raw, cracking voice work properly.  "N-Not necessary," he rasped.  "Honest."

Ku'Sox just laughed.  "Well I think it is, and Master knows best so you just relax and enjoy yourself while you can. You have to understand, Trenton, I'm not always going to do all the work like this. Next time, I'll expect you to pull your own weight."

Trent moaned hopelessly as Ku'Sox rocked forward sharply, claiming him again.  It was easy for him to do so this time.  The elf's body was already slick and stretched for him, and he buried himself to the hilt in one thrust.    

Trent threw his hands up over his head to catch himself, bracing against the wall behind the desk to keep the force of Ku'Sox's motions from slamming his head into it instead.  He waited tensely, but the demon didn't move again immediately.  Instead he murmured something in Latin.  Trent felt a small pulse of power and then Ku'Sox was moving again, thrusting back and forth in hard, deliberate motions ... but something had changed.  It still hurt like hell, but that was no longer the only sensation.  The burning pain now brought with it a new, unnatural and unwelcome thread of burning desire.

Something alien was creeping along his skin and lighting little tingling fires of need and arousal.  The slick, hideous slide of Ku'Sox's flesh against his began to kindle something dark, hungry and raw that pooled like a dull, needy ache in his groin.

_No, no, no!_ Trent grit his teeth, not wanting to feel this, not wanting to allow the insidious corruption of his own senses that Ku'Sox was forcing on him. 

"What ... the hell ... are you doing ... to me?" Trent demanded in a bare whisper, panting around the steady pounding of Ku'Sox's body and the growing waves of agonized pleasure they were instilling.

Ku'Sox grinned deeply as he shifted Trent's hips, finding a new angle to exploit and working it vigorously.  "I thought that was rather obvious ..." he purred, although he knew exactly what Trent meant.  He'd switched the purpose of the sensation curse burned into his familiar's back.  There was really only such a thin line between pain and pleasure after all.  That was just icing on the metaphorical cake, however.  He had complete control of Trent's body through their bond and just as he could impart blinding pain with a thought, so too could he impart pleasure and need.  Vampires had nothing on a demon who had control of your mind.  Ku'Sox could play freely with Trent's pleasure receptors until the most hideous pain would become the sweetest bliss.  Without even touching him, he was capable of keeping him in a state of constant need so great that it would drive him mad.  The absolute power was intoxicating.

Trent all but saw stars as each shock of friction inside him now called forth startling bursts of pleasure that went straight to his groin, making his own flesh begin to swell and tighten with arousal.  There was no way this was real, or normal.  The fact that he was getting off on this in any way was sick and twisted, but Trent knew this feeling did not come from him, or any natural desire of his abused body.  Ku'Sox was forcing it on him just like everything else.  He tried to remember that as the fire unfurled inside him, _feeling_ very hot and real as his manhood jerked to attention against his stomach and the fever-heat of arousal raced across his flushed skin.  

If Ku'Sox had more skill or patience, the falseness of what was happening wouldn't have been so obvious.  If he'd waited a little or given Trent any reason to think the pleasure might be genuine, he probably could have convinced him that it was the result of his own traitorous body.  That's what the older, more experienced demons would have done, and it would have emotionally scarred Trent much more deeply as a result.  Fortunately for the elf, Ku'Sox was brutal and depraved, but he was not all that good at some of the finer points of emotional manipulation. Possibly another result of his lack of empathy.

"Stop it!" Trent panted, arousal burning through his body now like brimstone.  His heart was racing and his head swimming.  Ku'Sox was clearly messing with his head and he was going overboard.  The sensations he was kindling were too strong, intense to the point of being painful.  It _never_ felt like this.  The restless, needy fire eating through him was all craving and desperation, like a junkie needing a fix. 

The analytical part of Trent's mind that was trained in biology and science understood what was happening.  Ku'Sox was literally playing with his head, bypassing his nervous system and likely feeding input straight into his left anterior cingulate cortex and right insula, or just triggering all the necessary neurotransmitters to go into overdrive.  Put simply, the demon was mashing down indiscriminately on the pleasure centers of his brain and flooding his body with the resulting chemicals and endorphins, but he was twisting it too, hyping everything up to a razor edge of sensation that made the pleasure sharp, and bright and agonizing.

It helped Trent a little, understanding what was happening and knowing it was not his fault.  It didn't make the terrible, burning need any less or the spiraling, drug-like high of the arousal pulsing through him any easier to manage, but at least he could tell himself that this wasn't real. Not in any ways that mattered.  The intense pleasure he felt tearing into him in time with Ku'Sox's violation was no more substantive or real than a drug-produced hallucination.

Still, he did not appreciate the manipulation, and the sensations were driving him crazy.  "I know what you're doing, stop it! I don't want this!" he gasped, feeling overwhelmed and lost, his hips bucking into the quasi-painful sensation against his will. 

Ku'Sox's chuckle was condescending and silky.  "You don't, pet?  Really?  Well then, I'll not let you have it until you _beg_ me for it." 

He pushed Trent's knees to his chest, scrubbing his raw back violently against the desk as he thrust into him.  It didn't matter, the elf could feel only what his master allowed him to feel and Ku'Sox leaned even heavier upon the senses he was manipulating, bringing Trent's arousal to a fever pitch that would burn like the sun in the Arizona desert.  He grinned as Trent's back arched, his head thrown back in hoarse, keening cries of need.  He made the elf desperate beyond measure and held him there, forcing Trent to ride the raw, bleeding edge of sensation while leaving him completely unable to find the peak his shuddering body craved. 

He was probably pushing a bit too hard.  Trent's body wasn't just shaking, it was almost convulsing, and his passionate keens were wild and urgent.  The elf was alive with sensation and had become a being of pure _need._ The demon loved seeing him come completely undone like this.  Thrashing and moaning as he was ridden hard, his body begging sweetly for the release it was being denied. 

A release Ku'Sox had no intention of giving him.  Not this time.  He'd make Trent beg him for it, but wouldn't grant it.  Trent must learn that some rewards needed to be earned.

Trent thought he must understand now how a vampire felt.  It felt as if there was nothing inside him but want and need and hunger.  Ku'Sox was doing this to him and he hated him for it, but even that had no strength because there was only the clawing hunger, the desperate need for release that was pounding through his veins like liquid fire, becoming more and more intense the longer it was denied.

Ku'Sox wanted him to beg for it, but he hadn't _ordered_ him to do so.  Trent kept his jaw clenched stubbornly shut.  It wasn't going to happen.  He keened and groaned because he couldn't help it.  He shuddered in sick, mind-blowing pleasure each time the demon sunk into him because he _couldn't help it._ But he would be damned if he was going to beg the son of a bitch for his own shame.  That much he still had control over. 

Trent knew a thing or two about denying himself what he wanted.  Hell, he'd made it into a turn-blasted art form.  Ku'Sox could drive him insane with need, but he _wasn't_ going to ask for it.  It didn't matter how hideously desperate he felt.  It was just a feeling.  It wasn't going to kill him.  Eventually it would end and he would _not_ carry around the shame of knowing he had been broken by so insignificant a thing.

Ku'Sox pushed him hard and rode him harder, carving himself into Trent as he'd promised and making sure he felt him to the core of his being.  He made it last as long as his own control could stand, but the elf never did beg, never opened his mouth to do anything other than scream.  That irritated Ku'Sox more than he wanted to admit. 

He looked down at Trent in annoyance after he finished, leaning over him on both hands.  The demon's breathing was somewhat rough, his body hot from exertion and relaxed from the sating of his passions.  He was also wearier than he'd expected.  He had not realized just how hard he'd been pushing at the end, trying for the result he couldn't get. 

Beneath him, Trent was a figurative and literal mess.  His skin was deeply flushed and glittered with perspiration.  His hips shifted restlessly, his bruised, naked frame almost undulating against the desk. His body was trembling with both exhaustion and energy, agonizingly taut with the need that he refused to acknowledge and Ku'Sox refused to relieve.  His pupils were completely blown, but his green eyes were wild, almost feral as they fixed on the demon with a hatred and scorn that seemed as old as time.  

"Are we done, _now?"_  The elf hissed hoarsely, summoning an impressive amount of disdain given his condition. 

Ku'Sox's eyes narrowed, not entirely liking or understanding what he was seeing.  The elf had clearly been pushed past his endurance, but the results were unanticipated.  Desperation had lent a hard, unexpected edge to the young man, stripping away not his humanity or pride, but instead just the soft commercial luster of the millionaire businessman.  There was something raw and untamed in his eyes, something wild and fierce and unpredictable, like elven magic.  

Ku'Sox's lips curled in antipathy.  Reaching up, he grabbed Trent's already mutilated hand and pinned it against the desk beside the elf's head.  A sharp, wicked little blade flashed to existence in his grip and for a sickening moment, Trent thought that Ku'Sox intended to finish what Al had started with his fingers.  Instead, however, the demon held his palm spread open and cut across the sensitive flesh there, carving something into it.  "So you don't forget," he hissed. 

Trent grimaced, gritting his teeth in pain, but he'd already been through so much, the bite of the knife hardly rated. 

Ku'Sox climbed off the elf, readjusting his disheveled kimono and giving his familiar a disgusted look.  "All right, get off your sorry ass then.  As you keep saying, there's work to do, right?  Hop, hop, hop!" he clapped his hands impatiently.  Trent had put him in a foul mood, but he'd make the elf pay for it later.  He _would_ break him; it was only a matter of time. 

Trent struggled upright with a soft groan, honestly surprise to find that he could.  His insides pulsed with a throbbing ache, but the unbearable pain from before was gone, as was the turn-awful agony of his flayed back.  He blinked, realizing Ku'Sox must have already healed the most serious of his injuries.  He certainly hadn't healed _all_ of them.  Trent was still bruised and sore, aching viciously from the multiple beatings and all the abuse he'd taken, but Ku'Sox had healed him enough that he was able to move in a _relatively_ normal fashion.  He was, unfortunately still aroused to hell though, which was more than a little embarrassing.

"Don't dawdle like there's something wrong with you.  There isn't," Ku'Sox sniped ill-temperedly.  He grabbed Trent's shoulder and hauled him the rest of the way off the desk, dragging him over to look in the mirror-like surface of one of the opaque windows. 

The floor was cold beneath his bare feet, and Trent winced at the messy sight he made with his hair sweat-damp and mussed, his eyes red and his skin smeared with blood and ... other things.  Ku'Sox spun him so he could see his back too.  The demon had deactivated the charm for the present, so he lines of it were not visible.  Only the crusting welts and burns he'd already had and the faint new striping caused by the cord Ku'Sox had used were visible on his tanned skin. 

"Finesse, remember?  There never _was_ all that much wrong with you.  Well ... there's this," Ku'Sox taunted maliciously, running his fingers up and down Trent's painfully flushed and swollen arousal.  "But we're not going to do anything about that until you've been a good boy, now are we?"

Trent shuddered at his touch and shifted uneasily.  But the demon was obviously in a bad mood, which sort of put Trent in a good one.  Or, well, one that passed for good considering the hell he'd just been through. 

"You know, all I beat you with was this," The demon showed him the silk cord mockingly and Trent raised his eyebrows in surprise and confusion.  "And you screamed like a _baby_.  You keep that in mind, Trenton."  Ku'Sox patted his cheek.  "And just imagine how badly I can make a _real_ whipping hurt.  Pleasant thoughts, love, pleasant thoughts."

Trent would rather _not_ think about it.  He'd rather not think about Ku'Sox again at all, ever.  Too bad that wouldn't happen.  "Can I go back to work now?" he asked quietly, his tone flat.

"Yes, yes, run along," Ku'Sox gestured flippantly, only the tightness around his eyes indicating how irked he was feeling.  "Don't forget to clean up the mess you made.  We'll have more fun later." With that combined promise and threat, the demon left. 

Once he was gone, Trent let his ridged body slump back against the wall behind him, sliding down it until he was crouching, arms resting on his knees.  Ignoring the hurt, he let his head hang as he just ... breathed ... for a minute.  He finally dared to uncurl his injured hand and see what it was the demon had carved there.

He snorted with disgust.  Ku'Sox had cut the word _whore_ into his palm.  The slices had already healed over into scaring, leaving the word branded on him as a clear message of his _master's_ esteem.

Running a shaky hand through his hair and pushing back to his feet, Trent looked around numbly, trying to find his focus.  What was he supposed to be doing?  Where did he start?  Everything felt distant and surreal.  His shoulders gave a funny little shuddering shake.  It had to be cold or something.  Because he wasn't crying.  He most certainly was not. 

_Snap out of it, Trent.  Head back in the game._ He reprimanded himself sharply.  It was his father's voice in his head, but it worked.  He drew in a deep, steadying breath, gathering up his discarded clothing and limping purposefully into one of the small work rooms adjacent to the lab.  There was a sort of a shower-like station in there, and he made use of it.  The water was cold because it wasn't a shower meant for _people_ , but he didn't care.  The cold shower was probably a good thing, given the other _issues_ he was having. 

He scrubbed himself down thoroughly, washing away the blood and gore and feeling the cold water sting against his injuries.  Turning his head under the flow, he washed his hair, brushing it with his fingers.  As he did, he softly chanted a cleansing spell - this one for the mind, not the body.  Ku'Sox had seriously screwed with his head and he wanted everything put back right.  He needed to fix whatever switches had been left turned on so he could get rid of this unremitting arousal that was making his whole body feel raw. 

His voice was still hoarse, although Ku'Sox had apparently advanced the healing of his vocal cords enough to make communication at least possible.  His throat was raw, but the soft syllables of the song-spell felt good in his mouth.  It was elven magic he appealed to with a soft, ancient melody that his mother had taught him when she wanted him to sit still with her and enjoy the beautiful peace of the pasture without running around and asking so many questions.  It was as much a meditation as it was a spell, one that centered the mind and cleansed the emotions. 

With spell and water, he washed the demon off his body and out of his head, at least for the moment.  By the time Trent dried off, he thankfully wasn't aroused any longer and his mind felt clear and relatively calm again.  It was a tenuous peace at best, but he had much practice at forcing a facade to become reality.

With quick, efficient movements, Trent dressed and returned to the lab.  He cleaned up the mess of vomit, blood and ...  other fluids that he and Ku'Sox had made, washing everything up and dropping the soiled towels into the incinerator. 

All reminders and evidence of what had happened neatly disposed of, save the one he carried around in his mind and the one Ku'Sox had carved into his palm, Trent picked up the nearby log book and scanned down the columns, looking for his last entry. 

Rachel wasn't the only one Ku'Sox was underestimating.  He was underestimating Trent as well.  He thought to leave his slave broken and in unquenchable need of his attention, but he had failed on both counts.  Trent's body was tight, but his shoulders were set with determination and his face edged with a hard cast of purpose.  

Ku'Sox had hurt him.  The hurt ran deep and Trent couldn't pretend it didn't affect him.  But it didn't _change_ him.  He would not _let it_ change him.  Ku'Sox had put him through the fire, but the shape that came out was not warped and broken, merely refined and hardened.  He'd held onto love and anger both and they had gotten him through. He had drawn his lines, and he'd held them, at least for now.  That meant something to Trent.  Perhaps he could be stronger than he thought.

 

\-------------------------------------------------------

_... During Chapter 29 ..._

Trent's head came up, the gritty, harsh air of the ever after stinging his eyes as he sensed the demon approaching.  Bis landed on Rachel's shoulder and he could see that she had already sensed the same thing.  Fear that he refused to show iced through his veins.  Ku'Sox had made him turn on Rachel last time.  He didn't want it to happen again.  The slave rings _had_ to work.  He only hoped that she would do what it took to _make_ them work.  

"Okay, time to see if these rings were worth lying to me about," she said, putting her back to his as she took a fighting stance. 

"Time to see if you're as good as I think you are," he whispered back.   Tugging on the line, he invoked the circle Rachel had drawn in the dirt around them.  His body tightened even as he forced his breathing to be slow and even.  They could do this.  They _had_ to be able to do this.  Ku'Sox was pure evil and they had to bring him down. 

As if sparked by the touch of the line, he felt a sudden connection opening with the woman at his back.   It spoke the whisper of magic, of earth and ley lines, of spells and curses, rosewood and burnt amber.  It murmured and hummed with the power of witches and demons.  It was as if Rachel was somehow sharing her lexicon with him and it was more than a little surprising.  Rachel had made it sound like she hadn't gotten anything from Quen when she was wearing the slave side of the ring, but he was getting plenty from her.  Maybe it was because they were using them backwards?  Or maybe, they just worked well together. 

As if summoned by that thought, he felt the brush of her essence touch him along with her spelling knowledge.  The strong ribbon of her determination and resolve ran into him like the energy of the lines themselves - a sweet, fierce song that made his world better just by existing.    _This_ was why he had thought of her when Ku'Sox was tearing him apart and he'd been unable to face it alone.  This was why her memory had helped him through the darkness and depravity of his brief captivity.  Maybe it wasn't weakness to admit that her courage gave him strength. 

Trent's hatred of Ku'Sox swelled at the memories and he found a strangely harmonious and answering wave of purpose-driven loathing rising from Rachel to meet with his, their energies flowing into each other, building and strengthening as they merged and fed one another.  He felt Rachel's anger at Ku'Sox over the deaths of Ceri and Peirce. He felt her heart-sick outrage and hatred of the demon for the way he had threatened Lucy and terrible the things he had forced Trent to do ...

Suddenly Trent felt a hard, sick jolt go through him.  _No, that wasn't right, she couldn't know what Ku'Sox had done to him, **no one** knew... _but somehow Rachel _did_.  He could feel it.  She must be seeing it through the bond created by the rings and was probably getting the full, ugly picture of everything Ku'Sox had done to him.  She had the master ring; it made sense that she was likely getting a lot more detail from their connection than he was.

For a brief, panicked moment Trent tried to pull back, to wall off those memories and not let her see them.  He tried to hide from her his weakness and shame, but he couldn't.  He had absolutely no control over the connection they shared and his struggles were so ineffectual that Rachel probably couldn't even tell he was _trying_.  The slave ring held him wide open for her, vulnerable, baring all his secrets.  Resolutely, Trent gave up the futile struggle.  He felt exposed and ashamed, but strangely he did not resent Rachel for what she was unwittingly demanding from him.  It was probably just as well.  He'd already screwed up enough by hiding things from her.  He lived a lie to everyone else - showing them only what they needed to see, being what they needed him to be.  She at least deserved the truth.  She deserved to know what he really was, even if it made her despise him again.

Maybe it was better this way, because he could feel what she felt, and he would know.  He would know what she really thought.  Not the polite words you told said or the supportive things you knew you _should_ feel when someone had been hurt like he had, but the hard, baseline truth of how it actually changed the way she thought of him.  At least then, he'd know and he wouldn't have to wonder any more.

And Trent _did_ feel what she felt.  The hard knot of Rachel’s righteous anger at the depths of the depravity to which he had been subjected flooded him, Ku-Sox becoming ugly and sordid in their shared vision.  He felt her revulsion for the demon's broken and lacking soul and to his great surprise, he felt her grim pride and respect for ... for him? 

He wouldn't have believed her if she said it, but there was no lie in the pureness of feeling they shared.  Rachel felt not even a momentary flicker of disgust or pity towards him.  All he felt from her was her respect for the way he had handled himself, her raging anger at Ku'Sox, and her sorrow and guilt that he had been hurt so badly.  He felt too her gentle awe and pained approval of the devotion he had for his daughter and the fierce protectiveness she felt towards both him and his children. 

In that moment of time, he was someone strong and brave in her eyes, and he'd had no idea how much that would mean to him until the moment was there and he felt the warm truth of it shock him down to his core.  Trent turned towards Rachel, the shock showing in his eyes. 

There were unshed tears swimming in Rachel's eyes when his gaze found hers.  She was looking at him like she'd never seen him before, but ... not in a bad way.  She blinked rapidly, her hand almost rising is if she wanted to touch him, but wasn't sure she should. 

Then there was a popping sound and Ku'Sox was suddenly there, standing between them.  The demon charged without preamble.  Rachel didn't move immediately, still seeming to be lost in the connection they had just shared.  Trent's gaze went to Ku'Sox, but strangely, he didn't feel afraid now.  At the last moment, Rachel jerked herself back to reality and pulled deeply on the line they were sharing, strengthening their circle, as he'd know she would.

Their shared emotions about the demon before them and their shared resolve to do what needed to be done bound them together, giving them both strength as they stood unbowed and unbroken before the demon, ready to meet his assault with their own.

\-------------------------------------------------------

_... During Chapter 31 ..._

Rachel and Trent sat across from one another in Trent's mother's spelling hut.  Trent watched as Rachel stared down at her scrying mirror, apparently retrieving the curse she'd created for him from where it was stored in the demon collective.  It was sort of like demon cloud-computing, as Trent understood it.

"It shouldn't hurt," Rachel was saying, babbling a little like she did when she was nervous, or distracted.  "If it does, just say the words of invocation again, and it will reverse as long as it hasn't sealed yet. Okay?"

Trent just nodded, his jaw tight.  He felt nervous and uneasy to the point of babbling himself, so he was attempting to resist the urge and was instead keeping his statements short and to the point.  His nerves had nothing to do with the spell Rachel was about to perform on him and everything to do with what he wanted to talk to her about afterwards. 

Trent looked away as Rachel frowned down at her mirror.  She wasn't going to be happy with him about the babies.  There was always a reason for her to not be happy with him it seemed.  But maybe if the choice was hers, she would understand.  Maybe if she made it, he could keep her with him in some way.

Whatever had happened with her scrying mirror, Rachel seemed distracted and out of sorts when she looked up again.  "Here," she said brusquely, holding her hand out towards him.  "I didn't want to risk making a charm tailored to you specifically in case the identifying factor could be used against you, so I need to touch you to focus the curse."

Trent hesitated, glancing down at the mangled hand currently curled casually in his lap.  "Does it have to be my right hand?" He asked.

The scars Ku'Sox had given him were still there.  The word _whore_ scrawled across his palm like a brand.  He'd been careful not to let anyone see it, not even Quen.  Rachel knew what had happened, but that didn't mean he wanted her to see ugly scar and what it said.  He was quite content to try to let that bit of history fade away from everyone's mind.

Rachel blinked at him like that was a stupid question ... or like she was having some kind of odd trouble focusing.  "It can be your foot for all that it matters," she assured and Trent promptly scooted forward, sliding his left, undamaged hand into hers.

Rachel's hand was warm and her grip tightened as she began the curse.  _"Non sum qualis erem,"_ she murmured, her other hand on her scrying mirror.  Rachel stiffed and a moment later, Trent felt the energy of the curse rush out of her and into him.  He jerked and his hand clenched tight around Rachel's as the curse washed over him with a sensation of running water and tingling power.

"It's done," Rachel said and Trent let go, holding his right hand up to the flickering firelight.  He smiled as he saw the proper outline of all five fingers once more.  It had been a while since he'd seen that. It felt very good to be able to feel them all again and be rid of the tingly, phantom pains he'd been experiencing ever since their amputation. 

As Rachel flopped back in relief that the curse had worked - something Trent had never doubted - the elf slowly turned his hand over and looked at his palm.  It was as normal and perfect as the rest of his newly healed hand.  No letters, no scars.  Ku'Sox's marks had literally been erased from his body.  Rachel had done that for him, and she didn't even know it.  Trent let his new hand fall back to his lap, and smiled.

 

END

 


End file.
